The Business of Consumption
by elleisforlovee
Summary: Three times when alcohol has complicated Ron and Hermione's relationship.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for the storyline. The characters, the world, and even the angst are all property of JKR.

**A/N:** This is dedicated to the phenomenal Jess (**justwantogethere** on tumblr) who is just a beautiful person, inside and out. She teases me about writing Romione (even though I no longer write HP fic) but she's been such a great friend I couldn't resist taking a prompt from her. Her prompt was drunk!Romione. I don't know how it happened or what it is really, but I hope she at least enjoys it? If other people read it - well that's cool too because let's be honest, being removed from this universe for awhile means this is absolutely not my best work. And it's also not beta-ed...so sorry about that!

Enjoy!

* * *

**4 August 1998**

It most certainly was not her best or most clever idea, but Hermione allowed it. After all, she was leaving for school in just two weeks, and with the Burrow absent of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for the first time since the war, it seemed only fair that they celebrate. For what, only she seemed to need a reason. With Molly and Arthur gone, Harry and Ginny worked under Ron's advisement and made no qualms about stocking the house with firewhiskey before inviting friends over. When Hermione inquired about who would be attending, she found the mostly male guest list to be a bit off-putting and demanded that Luna also be invited. What she didn't imagine was that Luna would be off with Neville all night, leaving Hermione to awkwardly sit next to Ron on the deflated couch near the fireplace, while he, Dean, Ginny, and Harry discussed upcoming quidditch matches.

In particular, she found her posture to be too stiff, and the top she had chosen to wear, one she admittedly chosen for its light peach color, was much too formal for such a party. Her hair was down, but braided along her hairline, and for the first time since Fred's funeral, she was wearing earrings, and some of the perfume Ron had purchased her last Christmas. In the muggle world, she'd be under-dressed at a party like this. She'd also be thanking herself for wearing a top with shorter sleeves, one that allowed her skin to breathe amongst the crowds of people. There wouldn't be leftovers and fancy cheese plates like those laid out on the table in the kitchen and everyone would definitely not be drinking out of glasses in the way that they were, or walking around in socks.

As Ron had promised her that morning, all with a kiss to her cheek, it was very casual. Even when the boys decided it was a good idea to play a game of drunken cards, it was still casual, and Hermione relied on this thought as she began washing dishes and tidying up in the kitchen pantry, hopeful that such tasks would be enough to distract her mind and therefore calm all the fears she was currently having.

"'Mioneeeee," Ron whined, thankful there was a nearby wall he could lean against as he watched her peak her head out of the pantry. "Come watch me fly."

This made Hermione laugh, and she shook her head as she finally emerged from the pantry, now carrying a bag of brown sugar. "Not a chance."

Lazily, Ron smiled and stepped further into the kitchen. Immediately, his hands sought her out, reaching out to wrap around her waist, a habit he began to fancy from the first moment Hermione was comfortable enough to allow it. "What are you doing?" he slurred.

Hermione side-eyed her boyfriend and then promptly pushed him away. She walked back to the pantry to retrieve more items, and when she returned, Ron was standing by the sink, his arms crossed over his chest and a smug lopsided grin painted across his cheeks. "Don't give me that look," she warned. "You're pissed."

"Hey," Ron tried, stepping into her again. He would have tried to hold her again too, had she not shot him the same look from before, admonishing such an action. "I love you," he whispered.

"Ron, go have fun with your friends, okay? I knew what this was going to turn into and that's fine. You boys go have your fun."

"No, Mione because it's not just us boys. Ginny and Luna are pretty drunk too."

"Yeah, well I'm not Ginny and Luna, am I?"

"No, you're not." And then: "You're no fun."

"I'm not fun because I don't want you to hurt yourself on that stupid broom of yours, or I'm no fun because I won't drink?"

Ron stopped as if to think. "Both," he nodded confidently.

The response Hermione gave him was clearly not the one he intended to receive from her in his drunken state. "You're daft, Ron Weasley. And I'll be sleeping in Ginny's room tonight. Harry will have to deal with it."

"Whadya mean?"

Hermione scoffed. "Well Ron, if I'm in your room all these nights, where do you reckon Harry has been? He most certainly hasn't been down on the couch, that's for sure..."

"That prick!" Ron let out. His protective nature only incensed Hermione more, and she made her intentions quite clear as she once again left him, this time heading for the ice box to grab butter and eggs.

With a large bowl in her hands, she walked to the counter nearest to Ron and began to move despite him. Her arms reached behind his back, grabbing for a large wooden spoon from the bowl near the sink. Then, she opened a cabinet above his head, creating a temporary wall between them, one which she sighed behind, letting the small hopes she had for the night escape her body completely.

As she closed the cabinet, it hit the wall with a loud smack, one that reverberated throughout the entire kitchen. Somehow, the noise worked to sober Ron up. "Well," he sighed. "I'd really like it if you came outside. Harry's made a fire and...is that a muggle thing? Do you guys just do that? Sit around fires and talk? I mean, it reminds me of when we were on the run. But I didn't know it was an actual thing. Seems barbaric to me."

"You want to lecture us on barbaric?"

"Well what does that mean?" Hermione turned away, returning her attention to the egg in her hands, momentarily distracting Ron as he watched her prepare all of this without magic. "What are you making?"

She didn't look to him, but instead began to stir the mixture. "Cookies."

"Do we have chocolate?"

"I've stolen some of yours."

Ron sighed. "Alright."

"They're for your mum. We've eaten nearly all of her sweets and she's having company tomorrow. I figured this would be a nice gesture." she tried to explain but for a reason she wasn't quite understanding of. Hermione would later learn that when you love someone, no matter their state, you treat them as best as you possibly can. Really, this is what allowed her and Ron to work so well. For as flawed as she found him to be, and for as annoyed as he constantly was by her behavior, they were incapable of disrespecting one another, and at the same time fully capable of loving one another despite the world's insistence that perhaps either might be better suited for another union.

Ron was at the archway now, ready to head for the door leading outside. "Can I have one later?"

Hermione sighed, but as she did, she smiled as well, unable to keep such an innate reaction hidden. Quickly though she straightened up. "Yes, Ron, you may have a cookie when they're done."

"Right then," he said, before disappearing out the door.

At the sound of the door closing hard in its jamb, Hermione allowed her shoulders to slump. She no longer had the energy to wear a mask in the way she had all week leading up to this party, and now that it was here, one of her infamous post-war moods, ones only Ron saw, seemed to be stronger than ever. Usually, she'd nap, but to fall asleep this late would be to admit defeat for the day.

With Ron gone, she walked over to the radio on top of the refrigerator, and turned the power knob, allowing the only station the Burrow ever received to play. It was one similar to the station her parents listened to at home with an eclectic mix of big band music and orchestral arrangements of popular oldies. It reminded her of home and she thought of how selfish she'd been staying here when her parents had only just returned home from Australia. Surely if she displaced them, she should also be the one to help them return to their previous lives. Fortunately for Hermione, while she and Ron were in Australia, her parents learned that the life she wanted, and more importantly needed and felt secure in, was the one she had forged for herself in the wizarding world. As Ron told them one night while Hermione was making a phone call, they should be proud of their daughter's independence and her ability to know her own mind.

When her cookie mixture was complete and rolled into uneven dough balls, Hermione, who was growing more and more tired, used magic to place the baking sheet in the oven. She then set a timer, one that woke her up when she had fallen asleep on the sofa right on the other side of the wall. Only twelve minutes passed, but somehow it felt like forever and she wondered why everyone hadn't come inside yet, but knew all the same that the excitement that kept them underneath the stars was not enough to move her to do the same.

Another spell was performed to cool the cookies but it was Hermione's hands that stacked them all neatly on a plate she grabbed from a nearby shelf. Once the plate was arranged and properly wrapped, Hermione placed it in the pantry, knowing that to leave it out on the counter was to invite all of the boys to steal one. Or eight, she thought, laughing as she cast the kitchen into a shadow before scampering up the staircase toward Ron's room.

A trip to the bathroom later, and Hermione couldn't quite remember why she had picked these specific pajamas to wear to bed. With autumn quickly approaching, the night was cold, and such thin shorts and basic tank top were not nearly enough to keep her warm. It would be awhile before Ron came upstairs, and his Chudley Cannons blanket surely was unlikely to suffice either. Even when he did come to bed, Hermione wasn't sure she wanted him to hold her in the way they'd both gotten so used to. And at the same time, she wanted him to want her in this outfit, to remind him of the night they could have had if she had just spoken up earlier and told him what she wanted. That used to be their problem; their inability to share their feelings with one another. How silly of her to think it would all become easier after "I love yous" were exchanged. Actually, Hermione thought, everything had become much more difficult since that day only a few weeks ago.

Getting into Ron's bed was only a reminder of this. Even without him here she could feel his hands moving over his stomach, as his head nestled into the back of her neck. All of his skin was upon hers, and when she breathed, he breathed, the two inhaling and exhaling softly, a give and take between them that had also become a bit of comfort for when the nightmares sometimes settled in. This was where she spent most nights, or at least part of most nights, pressed warmly into Ron. Even after Molly scolded Hermione for the behavior, she still found herself returning the next night, sacrificing the respect of Ron's mother if it meant feeling safe and loved for a couple hours of the day. These things were hard to remember when patches of hidden skin were still awful and violent shades of purple and blue.

Hermione must have fallen asleep, because the next time she blinked was to open her eyes. Her body stirred, but only enough to notice that the moon outside Ron's window was lower in the sky than it had been before.

Behind her, the shadowy figure she knew belonged to Ron sighed, before lazily trudging toward the bed. On the way, he stripped himself of his shirt, and then, at the edge of the bed where he sat down, began to pull his jeans off his legs.

"At least you brushed your teeth," Hermione huffed out.

Ron turned around. "Hermione?"

"Well, it's not Harry."

"No," Ron agreed simply, missing his girlfriend's clear sarcasm. "He's downstairs with the lot of them. They're all passed out by the fireplace."

"And you didn't want to join them?"

"Uh, no," Ron mumbled as he went to lay back in bed. He was just wearing his boxers, a fact Hermione knew to be true as she felt the cotton covering his hip brush against the exposed skin of her lower back.

"You still smell like firewhiskey," Hermione said, this time using her words to push Ron even further away.

Ron chuckled, an action that lasted longer than it would have had he been of a sober mind. "Actually, s'rum."

"Muggle liquor?"

"Mhm," he nodded. "Wan' some? Neville brought it."

"No, Ronald, I do not."

"Okay, well are ya gonna move over then n' give me some room on the bed?"

"No," she spat, using her anger to motivate her to sit up. "You know what? I think I'll just go sleep in Ginny's room…"

"Hermione, please don't…"

"Why not, Ronald?"

He reached out for her and she let him, his touch softening her despite her resistance. She sighed and looked down, not wanting the moonlight to reveal just how weak she was. Instead, it painted her cheeks a pale blue color, one that vanished completely only when Ron pulled Hermione down so her body was flat on top of his. "Why are you so sad?"

"I'm not sad," she breathed out. "I'm tired, Ronald. Months have passed and I'm still very tired. And I'm heading back to school soon and you'll be here and I'll be there. I thought this week with your parents gone we could figure it out."

"It's been almost three months, Mione. D'ya really think a week could fix this?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "Maybe."

"We 'ave tomorrow," Ron tried.

Hermione shook her head. "Your parents are getting home at noon. I doubt you'll even be awake then."

Silence settled and for a moment Ron thought Hermione had fallen asleep. What he saw when he picked up his head to check was her blinking straight ahead, her mind taking snapshots of the world outside, just as it was in this moment. "Ya should've 'ad a drink. Seamus says if ya drink 'nougha the rum ya don't feela thing."

"Don't you get it Ronald? I want to feel things. I want to stop being so afraid," she breathed out, finally giving Ron the answer to a question he didn't dare ask in the form of a tear drop, then several more, hitting his bare chest.

He said in nothing to return. It was only now that he realized how stupid he must have sounded all night, slurring his words and doing so because once again, he couldn't gauge Hermione's mood. He knew this was right, their relationship and the waiting it took to get them here, but for as much as he believed in it, he wished desperately that he had a better grasp of it all. Like the other night when they almost made love, but he pulled away, sure that she was going to tell him to stop anyway, just like she had all those times before. He was constantly waiting and preparing, only to miss the moment when it finally came, forced to watch it from afar as if a bystander and not an active participant in the train wreck that was their relationship as friends and now lovers.

Again Ron thought of something to say, but the words didn't come quick enough; Hermione was already fast asleep, her chest pushing against his as it rise and fell. Sloppily, and with the knowledge that it was not enough, he placed a soft kiss to her temple and told her he loved her and would always love her. Maybe not here or on any of the nights that would follow, but someday soon, with her away at school and him headed off to auror training, it would be enough. At the very least, beyond all of the war torn memories and the blood, it'd be something for her to feel.

~!~

**19 September 1998**

"What do you mean, she's tossed, Ginny? I gave you one bloody instruction and you really couldn't follow it?"

"Shhh!" Ginny hushed her brother as she turned back to him with a firm finger pressed against her lips. "I got you inside, didn't I?"

"No, my auror training got me inside. You merely opened the door, you—"

"Really, Ron, this was a stupid idea anyway. You broke her heart, you know. Getting that owl from you saying you couldn't make her birthday like you both had planned...she nearly started crying at breakfast."

"Well I didn't expect her to be that upset by it. I told her there was a possibility that things could fall through."

"Yes," Ginny sighed. "But she thought you'd make it work."

"And I did!" Ron defended. "To surprise her, remember? You were supposed to take her to the Three Broomsticks and I was going to meet you there. Instead, I get a note delivered to me, not by an owl, but by a third year...where did you find that kid anyway?"

This had Ginny chuckling, even despite the circumstances, ones currently hidden behind the door her and her brother were now standing in front of while arguing. "Some of the younger kids are a bit fascinated by the war still. I can't help who my boyfriend is and if they want to help me out because of that…"

"That's fucked up," Ron stated plainly, now pushing past his sister to reach for the door to Hermione's Headgirl suite. "Goodnight Ginny," he sing-songed, practically taunting her with his words. "You've done enough."

"Night," Ginny sighed. "Oh!" Ron turned back around to face his sister. "I've given her a bit of a drought I stole from Madam Pomfrey the other day."

"Were you planning for this?"

"No, but I do like to be prepared. Anyway, it's making her a bit drowsy, but once it kicks in, she'll be a bit sick."

"How sick?" Ron asked, his voice demanding that Ginny provide him with the truth. His sister merely shrugged before running off back down the stone staircase, leaving Ron no other choice but to enter Hermione's room alone.

There on the bed, clad in just her underwear, Hermione's body lay sprawled out. Her hair hid her face, but as she rolled over, he could see her mouth, partially opened.

"Hermione…" he tried now, as he approached her bed. This was not how he imagined their night to go and he hoped he'd be here in the morning to be given a proper tour of this all too large bedroom.

At hearing her boyfriend's voice, Hermione shot up, moving quickly to push her hair off her face. "Ron?"

"Hi…" he tried, but not hard enough apparently, as a laugh escaped his lips. "You okay?"

She shook her head and began to pout. "Why are you here?" Then, as if the idea suddenly dawned on her, her eyes widened. "Did you have to leave work to come?"

He reached out for her, his hand going to her cheek to touch her in the way his hands had been itching to do from the moment she left on the Hogwarts Express with Ginny. "No, love. It was…" Ginny's words sounded loudly in his mind. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not very surprised," she stated with much disdain. "My head hurts."

"Yeah, that's gonna be like that for awhile."

"I'm sorryyyyy," Hermione whined. "Ginny shouldn't 'ave called you!"

Ron could only smile with her in this state and he decided that it wasn't a good time to correct her. " Why don't you lie down?"

"Why don't you stop bossin' me around?" Hermione retorted. Her drowsiness was apparently muddling her attitude, and also, Ron had noticed, making her hair just that much more bouncy. "I'll do what I wanna do!"

Ron laughed. "I'm sure you will."

"Uh-oh," Hermione let out before covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. Her other arm reached out for Ron, pushing him to the side so she could stand up and run toward the loo. His eyes followed better than his feet were able to, both making deliberate work as Hermione wretched the contents of her stomach into the porcelain toilet bowl. Embarrassed and suddenly a bit more sober now with her insides empty, she looked to Ron, before dropping her head back down again.

A few months ago he may have found watching such an act to be a bit repulsive, but here, his heart softened and immediately he was on his knees next to her, pushing her hair away from her face and rubbing soothing circle on her back. "Want some water?"

" No," Hermioned sobbed. "I'm a mess..."

"'Mione, you're not a mess." And then: "Do you at least feel better?" he asked, thinking of what Ginny had told him about this particular potion.

She nodded. " But I look stupid." Trying to stand up, she pushed past Ron again, this time throwing a spell over her shoulder to flush to toilet. Quickly, she was on her feet, and she refused to give in to the pounding in her head as she cupped a handful of water up toward her mouth before grabbing for her toothbrush from its cup on the sink.

Ron was sitting on the edge of the tub now, his hands threaded together on his lap to show how patient he intended to be for her. "You've seem me throw up slugs before," he reminded. "It's really not that different."

"It is though! That was a dumb joke. This is..."

"Hermione, I was planning on surprising you," Ron repeated with yet another sigh. If she could see how defeated and guilty he felt by this entire thing then perhaps she would stop being so hard on herself. "I should have just been honest."

"Honestly, Ronald! It's fine." She turned on her heel. Behind her, her toothbrush was put away and was still spinning along the brim of the cup. "I've just had a very long week and I was sad when I heard you weren't coming—"

Ron stepped into her, both his hands reaching out to grab ahold of her wrists. "I'm sorry. Let's go talk, yeah? I saw you had some of those saltine crackers my mum packed for you. Those are good for a stomachache, right?"

Hermione tried to smile, but to no avail and as she dropped her head down she saw that she was still in her mismatched underwear and nothing else. "Ughhhh!" she let out before returning to her room.

Ron followed and watched as she began to rifle through the trunk at the bottom of the bed. "Want my shirt?"

Hermione turned to her boyfriend in confused disgust. "The one you're wearing?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"No," she spat back as if it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "What would you wear?"

"I can't sleep in my shirt anyway..."

"Who said I'm allowing you to sleep here?" Hermione was standing now and her usually knobby knees were more pronounced by the amount of skin she was exposing to him. With one of his old Chudley Cannons jerseys in her hands, she threaded her arms through the sleeves before pulling it over her head. The color, though one that looked good on exactly no one, certainly did Hermione no favors, but Ron melted a bit at seeing her upper body drown in the same shirt he had worn for what seemed to be a thousand times before.

Ron took a step toward Hermione, and immediately, she stepped back. "Really?"

"Please, Ronald, I don't feel very well right now and I'd like to just go to bed."

Again he stepped toward her but this time she didn't move. Her fear of having him this close and knowing she couldn't control herself instead showed in the way her breathing slowed down and her shoulders challenged that fact with each individual rise and fall. "I'm going to kiss you now, Hermione."

She shook her head but he stopped her with a firm kiss pressed to her lips. Her hands, ones that hadn't touched his skin in over a month gave in before the rest of her body did, moving up to his cheeks then to his hair, keeping him close. Hermione tried to pull away, but Ron shook his head, causing her to shut her eyes again and enjoy the close proximity they were finally afforded.

When they detached, Hermione tried to force a smile, but found her body was just as tired as it was before. "You can stay the night, but that's it. Come morning we have to get you out of here." Ron pulled back the duvet on the side of the bed opposite from where Hermione was currently getting underneath the covers. He stripped himself of his shirt, then his jeans. "There's a pair of your shorts in the armoire," she stated simply.

Ron smiled. "I don't need them."

Hermione shrugged. "Fine," she stated before rolling over. "Goodnight."

Ron was in bed now sitting up against the headboard. "That's it?" Huffing, she rolled over to face him. Ron saw now that her eyes were puffy and it was his turn to sigh as he took this as a warning sign for what was to come. " I didn't mean it like that," he tried to explain.

"No, it's fine," Hermione sighed, now avoiding his gaze completely. She reached up to push some of her hair behind her ear. "I wanted that too."

Trying to be mature, Ron swallowed hard. "What?"

"Girls have those thoughts too, Ronald. And it has been over a month," she said, not realizing how teasing it all sounded.

She was right though. Her and Ron's intimacy progressed at a steady level since the end of the war, but even on the night at The Burrow with his parents away and the party dwindling downstairs, they hadn't fully been together. Not even a full two days after, when Molly and Arthur took Ginny into Diagon Alley to buy some things for the new year, and Harry tagged along, it all changed. And then it changed two more times before they returned home that same evening. Unlike she was told she would, or rather, imagined she would, Hermione felt no different. There was no inexplicable change from within her, no strong emotional urge to cry or laugh, or even sleep. What she did feel was the love and respect that Ron had for her, confirming all she had ever thought to be true. She hoped, and was planning on using this birthday weekend to find out, that this knowledge would only intensify the more they were together.

"I'm sorry I got sick."

"I'm not," Ron quipped. Such energy was only allowed because he was still stuck on Hermione's previous comment. From here on out he had no other option but to be completely amazed by her. "I''m sorry I wasn't here to see you so wasted."

Hermione giggled and pushed at Ron's shoulder. They were both laying on their stomachs with their faces just inches apart. He smelled like chocolate and generic shampoo, and she, mostly like peppermint. "Was I a mess?"

"Ginny made it seem like you were but I doubt it."

"I think I almost jinxed a guy," Hermione casually stated.

Ron chuckled. " Who knew? Hermione Granger turns to the dark magic when she's under the influence."

"Well maybe Hermione's boyfriend shouldn't have lied for the sake of surprising her."

Ron scrunched his nose. "I know. I see now that it was a very stupid idea." He sighed. "How's school been? The room's nice," he added.

Hermione looked around too, as if her eyes would catch on something she hadn't yet seen just because he had pointed it out. "It's good. Busy. There's so much structure that needs to be re-implemented but the younger children are either so scared of being back or just mesmerized by Ginny and I that they don't listen to a thing I say."

"You are very easy to be mesmerized by," Ron charmed, and in the only way she could respond, Hermione shut her eyes and enjoyed the moment. "How have you been?"

"Fine," she beamed.

"No, 'Mione, how have you been? I mean really."

"Fine, Ronald, really. I mean, I know how we talked about this possibly being a triggering factor but it's been fine..." Her voice trailed off as she thought for a moment. "Sleep is hard to come by sometimes, but with all the work I have—"

"'Mione, you need to sleep."

"I worry about you too, you know. Ginny tells me what Harry tells her about camp and your letters never say a word about it."

"Yes, they do!" Ron defended.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Telling me about the food doesn't count, Ronald."

"Well what do you want to know?" he asked defensively.

Hermione shrugged. "Are they nice to you? Have you made friends? Do they treat you differently because of the war?"

"Yes, mum..."

"Ron, I'm serious."

"Okay, well, uhmm, they are a bit more harsh with Harry and I. And some of the guys make fun of us."

"Are there girls too?" Hermione added, trying to sound unconcerned.

Seeing right through it, Ron was amused, and smiled. "Not in my bunk. But yes, there are female aurors at camp with us. One of 'em mentioned you in class the other day."

"Oh did she?"

"Yeah," Ron affirmed. "Said you had a hot git of a boyfriend too."

Hermione laughed and reached out to stroke Ron's cheek. "I'll stop bothering you about it," she exhaled. "It seems like you're having a great time."

"I'm trying." His eyes shifted, prompting a topic change. "Did Harry tell you?"

"About the ring?"

Ron nodded. "Have you seen it?"

"No, but I imagine it's lovely. He does love Ginny very much."

"I guess."

"Ron, he treats her well. Besides, we've talked about this. If Harry's to leave us alone, you have to do the same with him. Besides, he's not planning on proposing until camp is over with."

"Yeah, well she's my sister."

"And am I not pretty much the same for Harry?"

A heavy sigh and then: "I suppose."

"Your parents love Harry, Ron."

"Exactly," he snapped. "They bloody love Harry."

"They love you too," she reminded. "You're their son and they're proud of you too." Understanding now what this was, or rather, what it had turned into, Hermione scooted closer to Ron underneath the covers, moving so one hand could rest comfortable on his hip. "I love you. And I'm proud of you."

Ron took her hand and held it between his own, an action she normally only saw in the winter when her hands were cold and she pretended to have forgotten her mittens. One time, he held her hands a bit too long and they both swore the things they had always kept hidden from one another would finally come to light. The moment was gone though, swept away by a bout of wind as well as Ginny and Harry walking up the path behind them. Now, it seemed they couldn't keep anything hidden for too long; it always found a way to come out in the end. "I love you too."

~!~

**25 July 2001**

Hermione said it four separate times on the cab ride back to their flat but Ron couldn't help but to agree: the party really was lovely. Ginny, as elated and bubbly as he had ever seen her, wore a white dress similar to the one she'd wear in a year or so when the marriage ceremony between her and Harry was to finally take place. Both Hermione and Ron were happy to do their duty as best man and maid of honor, walking around the party they had thrown to thank everyone for coming and supporting the happy couple. The entire time, they both sipped at cocktails, some muggle, some not, but the true consumption didn't come until after the party ended, when Ron and Hermione turned up the stereo and danced around the empty bar with trash bags in their hands, collecting paper plates and cups.

Already feeling a bit buzzed, they forfeited the short walk home and instead decided to take a cab, suggesting that the driver take them the long route through the park. The years afforded them less secrets, more intimacy, and a few weeks ago, a rather frightening pregnancy scare. Hermione had been working at the Ministry for just over a year now and Ron was just about to be dealt his first official mission as an Auror. The prospect of children wasn't too far off, but they had years before they even expected marriage. The flat which was still in Hermione's name was one they had shared from the moment Hermione graduated from Hogwarts, but it was not big enough for a child, and there were things to do, like this night in particular, before a baby was to be involved.

As the cab came to a stop outside the brownstone, Ron pushed open the door and offered Hermione's hand which she happily accepted after handing the driver his fare. The two then ran up the steps toward the door, and when they finally pushed inside and closed it behind them, the world was silent for the first time that night, giving them ample time to attach at the lips as they began awkwardly side stepping up the staircase toward their flat.

At the door Hermione laughed as Ron tried to use magic to open it. With no such luck, she detached from him and opened it using the keys she always kept in her bag. Inside, she walked straight toward their bedroom at the back end of the long hallway. Ron shut the door and followed, his eyes only glancing away as she threw down her purse and the light sweater she was wearing.

In their room, he grabbed her hips, causing her to yelp, something Hermione gave into much more easily than she'd ever admit and now, with her back against the door, he reached down for the hem of her dress and pulled it up over her hips. "Beautiful," he muttered as his mouth angled down onto her neck.

Hermione could only smile as he marked her, turning her skin a deep cranberry color which he then licked to both tease and sooth. "God," she moaned. "I've wanted you all night..."

Ron pulled his head up from her neck and smirked. "Just tonight?"

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Always."

"Yeah?" Ron beamed, a mischievous smile playing its way across his lips as he bent down to pick her up. Momentarily, all of her weight rested on his forearms before he dropped her on the bed, her body causing the mattress to bounce even as she leaned back, admiring the way his muscles contracted as he removed his collared shirt. Instantly, he was back on top of her, his hands fisting in her hair as she cupped his cheeks, both fighting for dominance as fingers and limbs danced upon naked skin. "Can we take this off?" Ron asked, referring to Hermione's slip. She nodded, and slowly the black silk was pulled down off her hips and tossed to the floor.

Continuing her need for dominance, Hermione straddled Ron just as soon as he was laying back against the pillows. Immediately her hands were all over him, running patterns from his shoulders down to the waistband of his trousers where she undid his belt and rid his waist of the leather constraint completely before leaning back down to Ron to kiss his chin, his cheek, and then his open-mouth. With her this close, Ron reached up, his palms going right to her chest to knead her breasts through the thick material of her bra. "This too?" he asked and Hermione laughed as she moved to undo the offending article.

"No, let me," he said, stopping her. With the band unclasped, the cups spilled forward, threatening to reveal Hermione completely. The straps pooled at her elbows and Ron reached forward to pull at the bra. Of course Hermione let him, and even after what seemed to be a million rounds of this, she leaned forward, needing the taste of his lips upon hers, if only for a moment until her chest got used to such exposure.

In a habit she had, she distracted him from his task by creating one of her own. Slowly, and in a way that was teasing, Ron would say, Hermione's fingers danced along the zipper of his trousers before finally making the decision to pull down. When they did, the smoothed back the material, before confidently reaching out for him, taking his length in her hands and beginning to pump, an action that had Ron involuntarily bucking up into her palm.

"Such a teenage boy," she criticized.

"No," Ron shook his head. The way in which he looked at her was most certainly not close to that of a teenage boy and they both had grown so much since the first time they had done this together. "But good to know what you fantasize about."

Hermione feigned shock before pushing Ron back down on the bed. The steady pace she had set for them before was abandoned as her hands found the sides of his slacks and with his boxers and pulled all pieces of clothing down off his legs. She wasted no time ridding him of his socks and silently thanked him for kicking off his shoes at the door when he first followed her in.

"Unfair. Knickers," Ron nodded toward Hermione. "Now."

She looked at him in all of his naked glory and merely smiled. Dear god what had she done to deserve him? And at the same time, a similar sentiment ran through his mind causing his head to drop back against the mattress and laugh.

Fuck, he was drunk.

Ron picked up his head and feasted his eyes on a stunning sight. Hermione, her hair still messily thrown up beginning to piece and fall out of its bun at the base of her neck. The headband she had in to tame the curls was futile at this point, but she wore it like a crown, proudly, and to contrast that when she stood up, she was completely naked, just as bare and exposed as he, and for the first time in their life, after all these years of similar love making, she looked happy with the fact. As she kneeled up on the bed and began to crawl back to Ron, she didn't dare cover her chest or cross her legs. She wanted all of him and she knew by the way he was looking at her, a look that was not diluted by his tipsy state, he wanted her as well.

Hermione reached down between them and began to guide Ron's member toward her. Teasing the tip, and herself as well, it was all slow and languid as she, still straddling him, took all of his length inside of her.

Ron reached up and put a hand to each of Hermione's hips. This was her permission, a nod she didn't need, to begin moving against him and with every rock of her body, Ron arched his back up to meet her.

Sloppily, Hermione smiled before leaning down to Ron to kiss his lips, before pulling away, taking his bottom lip in between her teeth as she went. His buzz was wearing off, but he liked where he was, while at the same time wishing to give them more. With this thought in mind, he palmed Hermione's bottom and used this position to turn them over so he was on top. It was his turn then to lean down and kiss her, and with him now hovering above her, his chest pressed flat against her own, she regained dominance of the situation with her tongue gently passing by his lips.

Their climax came minutes later, with Hermione crying out and Ron grunting softly into her neck as he spilled himself inside of her.

When they detached, Ron was forced to fall over onto his back so as to not crush Hermione.

"I bet you wish I was on top now," she breathed out with a small laugh as she rolled her head to look at him.

He leaned over much in the same way and kissed her shoulder. "Maybe. I wish I wasn't still a bit pissed," he commented. "Could've gone longer…"

"Yeah, well I'm certainly not complaining. You've tired me out."

Ron did his best in his post-coital state to sit up a bit, an action that invited Hermione to settle back into him with her head on his chest. "See, I know you're still drunk too. Sober Hermione would be begging me for seconds by now—"

"I don't know any Hermione's who have ever begged you," she warned, using her eyes to do so.

"Christmas Eve the moment you arrived to the Burrow and saw my family was still out. Easter break when—"

"Okay, okay," Hermione laughed before leaning up to peck Ron's lips. "I'm sleepy though. You can tell me all about the times I've apparently begged in the morning."

Ron leaned down and kissed Hermione's neck, causing her to somehow perk up again despite her insistence on finding slumber. "It's only midnight, love…"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Or in a few hours." And then: "Or now and then we could sleep…"

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

x. Elle


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